


Against a Wall

by cozywilde



Series: Kinktober [6]
Category: Flight Rising
Genre: Biting, M/M, Unhealthy Relationships, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 01:08:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17457704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cozywilde/pseuds/cozywilde
Summary: A late-night chase through the ruins at the edge of the city turns heated.





	Against a Wall

**Author's Note:**

> [Senkar](https://toyhou.se/3281147.senkar), a dastardly (semi-)former assassin  
> [Vaikarik](https://toyhou.se/3281957.vaikarik), a young guard
> 
> please be aware that these two do not have a healthy relationship - if you'd like more details feel free to shoot me a message <3

His way lit only by the moon overhead, Senkar slips from shadow to shadow. This isn’t a populated part of the city - towards the outskirts, it’s still in ruins. Romar and his construction crew have yet to demolish and rebuild, and so Vasenara has yet to bother lighting any lamps. While not a good place to live, it is just about perfect for traveling unseen. Or at least making the pretence of it.

Senkar smirks as he darts behind the shelter of some long-forgotten building, the walls mostly rubble now but still piled high enough to offer a hiding place. Behind him he hears the telltale signs of a pursuer, stealthy as they might try to be. The muted crunch of boots on gravelly rubble. The squeak of a leather sword belt, not quite worn in. The excited intake of breath when Senkar deliberately nudges a little spill of pebbles with a toe.

With that they’re off again, Senkar vaulting a low wall and making his circuitous way around the ruins. Were he actually doing something untoward he could lose his pursuer in a heartbeat, but that’s not why he’d ventured out tonight.

It had been hard to miss a certain guard’s fascination with him since he’d arrived. All right, suspicion is more accurate, but Senkar allows himself some optimism. Suspicion would inspire wariness and observation, certainly, but Senkar knows suspicion - the sharpness of it, the needling bite that wears away any possibility of connection. That’s not what Senkar’s sweet little guard feels.

Those sharp needles are dulled by his curiosity, his intrigue, his inability to be unmoved by Senkar’s horrible jests and jabs (all verbal, of course, as even the most naive guard would find it hard to ignore even the gentlest stabbing). Senkar allows himself a soft, indulgent chuckle.

And then he’s slammed against the wall behind him, breath whooshing out as a forearm is applied to his windpipe with brutal accuracy. _Much improved,_ Senkar can’t help thinking to himself, and then his vision is taken up by fiery orange eyes that shine bright against the night’s darkness.

“Tell me what you’re doing here, Senkar. And don’t try to act like it’s nothing.” His attempt to make his voice sound as cool and gruff as T’Bren’s is, frankly, adorable.

“And a good evening to you too, Vaikarik, isn’t the moon lovely tonight?” is all Senkar manages with the last of his breath before Vaikarik narrows his eyes and presses harder. Senkar does his best not to whimper with delight at the treatment.

“Stop trying to be funny. There’s no reason to be out here unless you’re up to no good.”

Senkar tries to speak, can’t, and gestures emphatically at his throat. Flushing palpably hot with embarrassment, Vaikarik lowers his arm to press against Senkar’s collarbone instead. “Sorry,” he mutters, and then, stronger, “Now tell me what you were doing. And no bullshit.”

“A man can’t go out and enjoy a walk in the moonlight anymore?” Senkar smiles winningly, and Vaikarik glares. Senkar almost imagines he can feel the clumsy probes of his emotion-sense. Coming up against a cultivated wall of wry humor, he’ll be lucky to get even the barest hint of anything else. “Though it is a real pity to have to do it all by my little lonesome. Think there’s anyone around who’d like to join me for a stroll?” Senkar leans in a little closer, gazing up at Vaikarik with sultry, half-lidded eyes.

If Vaikarik had been flustered before, it’s nothing to how he is now. “That’s - that’s not -” he sputters, his breath catching noticeably as Senkar laughs, low and satisfied.

“What’s wrong?” Senkar asks, leaning in even closer, just about as far as the pressure of Vaikarik’s arm allows. His breath brushes over Vaikarik’s lips, and he can feel the responding shudder run through his body. “You don’t want to be alone with me? I don’t see a guards’ uniform on you… you’re not even on an official patrol, are you?”

Vaikarik’s eyes dart tellingly to the side, the flush on his cheeks deepening. “T’Bren said I needed a break,” he mumbles, giving Senkar an accusatory glance. “Said I was spending too much time following you around…”

“Aww,” Senkar says, quickly biting back his next words as Vaikarik’s eyes narrow, anger flaring up in those fiery eyes. Instead, he tempers his gleeful teasing, switching to a low, seductive tone. One hand slowly coming up to rest on the arm across his chest, he says, “I like that you’re so captivated by me, working so hard to keep me in your sight, even when I play around with you a bit…” Vaikarik snorts, and Senkar can’t hold back a grin. “All right, maybe a little more than a bit.” He rubs over Vaikarik’s arm, the tight muscles loosening a little as Senkar looks up at Vaikarik, using that little bit of slack to lean up and kiss him.

For a few endless moments it’s wonderful - Senkar coaxes Vaikarik into an easy rhythm, his breath coming faster as he feels the bright heat of Vaikarik’s body - such a sharp contrast to his own, always a little cold even in the desert. Senkar lets out a soft, satisfied sound and Vaikarik reels back with a gasp.

“What in the fires of the Flamecaller was _that?!”_ he yells, Senkar flinching back at the sudden shout. He falls back on his standard repertoire, smirking unrepentantly and stifling his disappointment at Vaikarik’s reaction.

“What did you think it was?” he teases, then pauses, a fresh thought occurring to him. “That wasn’t your first, was it?”

 _“No!”_ Vaikarik says, hot embarrassment rising over his anger like smoke from a bonfire. He doesn’t seem like he’s lying, though, interestingly enough. “Why would you even - what could you be _thinking_ \- what kind of stupid game -”

“Oh,” Senkar says, stepping forward and taking Vaikarik’s hand. He doesn’t even jerk it back, brow furrowing in confusion as Senkar draws it towards himself. “You think this is another game, hmm?” He brings Vaikarik’s hand up to his mouth, pressing a lingering kiss to the back of his hand. His fingers flex in his grip, but he doesn’t pull away. “It’s not,” he says, voice low and soft as his tongue slips out, tracing along Vaikarik’s hand, curling around his index finger and pulling it into his mouth.

Vaikarik seems transfixed, eyes fixed on the curve of Senkar’s lips around his finger, his deep flush making the sweet golden freckles on his face stand out brightly. There’s a swelling _something_ in the air, a turbulent mix of frustration and lust and confusion like a brewing storm, and Senkar wonders what it will take to make that storm break.

Senkar’s teeth scrape over Vaikarik’s finger, and that pretty much does it.

With a low, aching sound of surrender, Vaikarik shoves Senkar back against the wall, tearing his hand from Senkar’s mouth and quickly replacing it with a hard press of lips and teeth. He’s clumsy, overeager, the hard press of his body knocking the breath from Senkar before he can react. When he does it’s with a delighted, breathy purr, one hand sliding into the fluffy mess of Vaikarik’s hair while the other slips down to palm his ass.

“Thank the gods you’re not wearing all of that armor,” Senkar murmurs into the kiss, and Vaikarik makes a sound that’s halfway between a snort of laughter and a mortified whine.

“Shouldn’t even be out here, but - _gods -”_ Vaikarik gasps, his fist clenching where it’s pressed beside Senkar’s head as he hitches a leg over Vaikarik’s hip, tugging him closer.

“I’m so glad you are,” Senkar says, and rocks his hips forward. Vaikarik moans as their bodies press together, burning hot against just-slightly-cooler. It’s not really enough with layers of fabric between them, but Senkar can still feel Vaikarik’s length rubbing against his with each roll of his hips, growing hotter and harder by the second.

“Gods, oh -” Vaikarik can barely get words out between hot kisses and his shaky gasps, but he keeps on making a valiant effort. “I - I need -”

“Oh yeah?” Senkar murmurs, and then drops his head to nuzzle at Vaikarik’s neck, his kisses there almost sweet until he can’t resist a little nip or two. “What d’you need?” He tugs up the back of Vaikarik’s shirt, slipping a hand beneath to rub over hot skin.

The blaze of Vaikarik’s emotions is harder and harder to read as the lust overpowers all else, but Senkar can’t wait for the last of his stubborn uncertainty to burn out. “I shouldn’t…” he starts, cut off on a moan as he grinds forward, unable to help himself.

Eyes gleaming bright in the moonlight, Senkar looks up at him again. “Shouldn’t is boring. Haven’t you thought about it, Vaikarik? All of the things you’d like to do to me?” Senkar leans most of his weight back against the wall, deftly undoing the buttons of his shirt to bare more and more of his chest. As if hypnotized, Vaikarik nods, a hand coming up to trace over the skin, finding the paler shininess of thin scars lit by the moonlight overhead.

“You don’t have to be so gentle,” Senkar purrs, and he grins at Vaikarik’s start of surprise and the thread of curious heat that runs through him. “In fact, don’t.”

Vaikarik’s hips hitch forward again, and then his hands grip Senkar’s sides, rocking him down against tentative thrusts. Purring appreciatively, Senkar drags his nails down Vaikarik’s back. He gets a soft yelp and a returning bite of fingernails in return, shuddering softly as Vaikarik freezes.

Cracking his eyes open, Senkar smirks. “What are you waiting for? _More_.”

Vaikarik squints. “You… liked that?”

Senkar resists the urge to roll his eyes. Vaikarik is so painfully _vanilla,_ but he’s sure that he’s teachable. “Very much so.” He rolls his hips instead, getting a delightful whine as their dicks rub together through their pants.

Vaikarik steels himself, then pulls back. Senkar’s halfway through a whined complaint when the guard spins him around and presses him face first against the wall, arm pressed to the middle of his back to hold him there. A second later he’s snug against Senkar’s back, a hand at his hips tugging him back into the hot pressure of his dick.

Senkar moans, back arching. “Damn, Vai, didn’t think you had it in you.”

Vaikarik’s quiet - except for a mumbled “that’s not my name” - but Senkar can feel a familiar flush of heat where Vaikarik’s face is pressed against his neck. A moment later, his hand fumbles at the front of Senkar’s pants. For a moment Senkar thinks he’s just trying to grab him, and he helpfully rolls his hips into the heat of his palm - but then he tugs at the laces of his pants, and Senkar gives a low, delighted laugh.

“ _Really_ didn’t think you had it in you, so _bold,”_ Senkar murmurs, and the burn of Vaikarik’s embarrassment is hotter than ever. Senkar promptly resolves to shut the hell up before he frightens him off.

After a beat of apprehensive silence Vaikarik manages the laces, starting to tug Senkar’s pants down. And then Senkar’s resolution goes out the window.

“Wait, wait, one moment,” he says, hurriedly digging through his pockets. Deftly plucking out a small vial, he presents it to Vaikarik. “For you. Continue.”

“What is that?” Vaikarik says, and his tone reads boringly suspicious. As if Senkar’s going to hand him a vial of acid when he’s got his dick out or something. And okay, that was _one time_ and Vaikarik doesn’t even know it happened and he _never will_ if Senkar has anything to say about it.

Sighing heavily, Senkar wriggles out of his pants - and it’s a shame Vaikarik isn’t paying better attention to that, because escaping from the confines of tight leather with only one hand is really something to see - and then wiggles his ass at Vaikarik. “What do you think it is?”

Even without seeing his face it is so obvious that Vaikarik’s blushing horribly. “You just - you carry that around with you all the time?”

“Uh… yes.” This time Senkar doesn’t bother suppressing his eye roll. Facing the wall as he is, it’s not like Vaikarik can see it anyway. “For occasions such as this, it pays to be prepared.” He rocks his hips back against Vaikarik, shivering as the rough fabric of his pants scratches the skin of his ass. “Don’t you want it, Vai? Something a little more satisfying than just rubbing up against me?” Caught up by the low purr of Senkar’s voice again, Vaikarik’s hips slowly roll against him, his hands clutching at Senkar’s hips.

“Stop calling me that,” he says, but his voice is vacant and distracted, a token protest at best. This time he takes the vial when Senkar offers it in a lightly trembling hand.

“That’s a good boy,” Senkar grins, bracing his arms against the wall again. He thinks he hears Vaikarik give a soft whine, and then he shifts away, a soft pop and the clatter of the cork hitting the ground giving away that he’s opened the vial. Apparently not _too_ concerned it’s full of acid or poison, then. One part of Senkar delights in it - that despite all of his squinting distrust and prowling patrols, Vaikarik trusts him to some degree. Another part despairs that he is definitely going to die in less than a minute if he ever runs into an assassin who actually wants to hurt him.

Senkar yelps as a slick finger pushes into him, and Vaikarik swears loudly.

“Sorry, sorry, _shit,_ I thought you said - that you wanted -” he stutters, and Senkar has to reach out lightning-quick to grab his hand before he can pull away again.

“I do,” Senkar says, after a deep, steadying breath. “But perhaps a verbal warning next time.”

“Sorry,” Vaikarik says again, voice thick with embarrassed remorse that’s mirrored in his emotions. Gods, but he’s an open book, as much as he tries to be appropriately guarded. Senkar gives his wrist a reassuring little squeeze before he releases it and feels Vaikarik take a shaky breath.

The next push of his finger is slow and careful, with frequent pauses as Vaikarik waits for Senkar to make a noise of encouragement before continuing. Senkar’s sigh of relief is more out of fervent thanks that _that_ is over rather than the feeling itself - at least until Vaikarik starts to ease out with similar care.

“Vaikarik, _please,_ ” Senkar says, thoroughly exasperated. Vaikarik may be fine, but desert nights are _cold_ if you’re standing there pantsless and doing nothing else. “You surprised me, you didn’t break me.”

“I just -”

“ _Harder.”_ Senkar pushes his hips back in a sharp rhythm until Vaikarik catches on and takes over. His fingers grip tight at Senkar’s hip, steadying him as the rocks of his other hand make him sway back and forth. “Yes, good. Now another,” Senkar demands.

There’s only the faintest beat of hesitation before Vaikarik obeys, another finger pushing in alongside the first. Senkar moans as he feels the first tingling stretch run up his spine, back arching sharply in encouragement. Breath hot against the back of Senkar’s neck, Vaikarik keeps up that same rhythm, and Senkar shudders before he relaxes into the motion.

Vaikarik needs no encouragement to start nudging a third finger against his rim, and it’s a good thing too - Senkar can only whine softly, trembling at the added pressure. He rises up on tiptoe as his body shys away, but Vaikarik’s hand at his hip is immovable, and with a low moan he accepts the added finger. Vaikarik’s lips press up against his neck, and Senkar blinks as he realizes he’s laving the skin with licks and kisses, the soft touches steadying him. Vaikarik’s fingers press in deep and Senkar nearly collapses against the wall for support as the pleasure wracks his body, deaf and blind to the world around him for a dangerous moment.

When he comes back to himself - shivering, sweat-slicked, but miraculously with his dick still heavy and wanting despite what had felt remarkably like an orgasm - he feels slick, hot pressure against his ass. Moaning, he shifts back, breath coming quicker as Vaikarik’s dick slides between his cheeks, over his hole.

“Fuck,” he hears Vaikarik breathe, and then he angles the head of his dick to rest against Senkar’s hole and pushes in.

Unable to stop it under the rush of renewed pleasure, Senkar lets himself be pushed up against the wall, face pressed to the cool, smooth stone. Vaikarik hiccups little moans as he rocks his hips deeper, deeper, his hands moving restlessly over Senkar’s hips and sides. Eventually he flattens a hand over Senkar’s stomach, sandwiching him between twin points of heat.

Finally his hips meet Senkar’s ass, and they both freeze, breathing hard. That familiar rough-spun fabric rubs against him. He must have opened his pants just enough to get his dick out. Senkar almost laughs. _Impatient._ And Vaikarik is… bigger than he felt through his pants. Much, much bigger. Senkar wonders how he could have miscalculated so poorly - it really isn’t like him - and then whines softly as Vaikarik shifts. Senkar clenches down around him and he shudders, the kisses at his neck replaced by a quick scrape of teeth.

Senkar’s cry echoes loud in the ruins, and Vaikarik gasps and makes to jerk back. Senkar doesn’t let him though, his hips chasing Vaikarik’s, pushing back eagerly.

“Senkar, I -” Vaikarik says, worry and lust battling in his turbulent emotions, and Senkar quickly cuts him off.

“Again, _again,_ come _on,_ ” he hisses, and reaches up to tangle his hand in Vaikarik’s fluffy golden hair, dragging him back down to the reddened skin of his neck. Tentative, Vaikarik opens his mouth, Senkar shivering with anticipation as his breath puffs over his skin. A moment later he’s rewarded with the sharp press of teeth, and he groans, the fingers of his other hand clenching against the wall. “Harder, harder,” he murmurs, and Vaikarik gives a muffled, incredulous sound but obeys.

“Fuck, _yes,_ ” Senkar moans, rolling his hips back. Vaikarik’s teeth clench down at the same time that his hips buck forward, and Senkar shivers, precome dripping eagerly from the tip of his dick. “Vai, Vai, _fuck me.”_

Apparently helpless to resist, Vaikarik gives a jerky nod and pulls back. Senkar almost protests as the cool night air washes over inflamed, saliva-slick skin, but Vaikarik only switches to the other side of his neck before he bites down again, rocking his hips in quick, hard thrusts.

Now Senkar is the one left gasping, his breath catching with each nip of Vaikarik’s teeth against his neck. He rests his forehead against the wall, the cool stone a sharp contrast to the radiant heat of Vaikarik’s body behind him. Senkar aches to reach down to touch himself, to get even a little relief, but the strain in his arms tells him that he’d slam right into the wall without their support. And he can’t deny the slow-burning heat building low in his belly is wonderfully painful, white-hot sparks of sensation driving it higher and higher.

The pitch of Vaikarik’s low, half-muffled moans changes, his hips jerking quicker and quicker. The slap of their skin together is incredibly loud in the silent ruins, though it’s rapidly being eclipsed by Vaikarik’s cries as he thrusts a few more times and then stills, giving a last deep grind that shoves Senkar against the wall with a shuddering gasp. The pulse of wet heat within him, the shock of sudden cold against his dick - it’s too much for Senkar too, and he streaks the wall with his come with a shaky moan.

For long moments they lean there, panting for breath. There’s only so long Senkar can stand the creeping cold of the stone and the surrounding desert night, though, so with a regretful sigh he nudges at Vaikarik to get him to move.

“O-oh. Right.” Vaikarik’s emotions are murky and hard to read for once. He braces against Senkar’s hip to pull out, both of them giving shaky gasps as he does.

The night is so much colder without Vaikarik’s body as a line of heat along his back, but Senkar is careful to suppress his shiver as he turns around and leans against the wall again. Smirking, he watches as Vaikarik hastily tucks himself back into his pants, not bothering to put himself back in order yet.

“So -” Senkar starts, once Vaikarik is finished.

“No. I don’t want to hear it.” Vaikarik crosses his arms, and Senkar raises an eyebrow.

“Hear what, may I ask?”

Vaikarik scowls, an expression that’s unfamiliar for the amount of vitriol it contains. It falters as his eyes drop to Senkar’s throat - which must look a horrible mess for how badly it’s throbbing - but with a hard swallow he looks away again. The churning mess of his emotions reads only as unpleasant, the nuances lost. “Whatever gloating or mockery or whatever else you have for me. Just - go, alright?”

Senkar feels his lip curl in something that’s not quite a smile. “Oh, is this your ruin now? I didn’t realize.”

“Fine. I’ll go.” Vaikarik turns away with a last, parting glower. “Just - don’t tell anyone that I - that this happened.”

“So that’s how it’s going to be, is it?” Senkar says, carefully tamping down his own reaction. If they won’t be a happy souvenir, at least the bruises at his neck serve as a good distraction with each throb of soreness. When Vaikarik looks back, there’s only a dispassionate coolness for him to see.

That hot stubbornness might waver for a second, but it could just as likely be Senkar’s stupid optimism at work once again. “Yeah. That’s how it’s going to be.”

Senkar snorts. “Right.” He stoops to snatch up his own pants, tugging them on and deliberately looking away from Vaikarik. After a few moments, he hears the slow crunch of retreating footsteps. By the time he buttons his pants, he’s truly alone under the cold light of the moon.


End file.
